


Pyrrhic Victory

by orphan_account



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Another thing I'm moving from Tumblr to here, Death, Gen, I cried writing this, I know the cordial thing was diamond and it couldn't be broken but... plot, Pyrrhic Victory, So I hope y'all enjoy it otherwise my tears woulda been wasted, The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, War, battle of beruna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: We all know how the first book of The Chronicles of Narnia ended, but what if things hadn't worked out in our beloved protagonists' favors? What if, in a way, Jadis had won?





	Pyrrhic Victory

**Author's Note:**

> This was for an English project several months ago, and the assignment was to rewrite the last chapter in a book, and so I chose the last chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe because C.S. Lewis is an amazing author and his books are phenomenal. I was also in the mood to crush the hearts of my classmates via feels. I had to read it aloud to them, and I’m confident in the fact that I succeeded XD. Without further ado, here is Pyrrhic Victory.

Despite Aslan’s impressive large gathering of an army on this deceptively sunny day, despite all their efforts to drive the White Witch’s forces back, their enemy’s numbers seemed to grow. It didn’t matter if Edmund killed her or smashed her wand, she had planned for that very slim chance. Even the very sight of their leader dead on the ground didn’t deter the monstrosities that were on her side. Instead, the morbid sight simply fueled their efforts in defeating the Lion and all he stood for.

Susan and Lucy were quickly running out of arrows, Peter his stamina, and Edmund was still in shock from the fact that he just took something’s life–albeit that thing being the evilest thing to ever walk the lands of Narnia–and relished that feeling of satisfaction as his dagger found its place in her back while she was caught up in all the confusion. Even so, he took away that spark of life that the Witch had, a creature that previously had that burning fire apparent in the very way she stood. Had he really enjoyed it? Had Edmund really enjoyed taking the life of a fellow- No, that thing was not a fellow human being, she was a snake that managed to slither her way into his mind. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Clenching his fists, Edmund turned around to glance at the fighting masses below. Seeing all the carnage that took place, his features hardened. Half of the warring masses, maybe even more, were the enemy, the traces of the Witch that were left. Perhaps it was up to him to put an end to the very memory of that vile woman. A bitter taste filled his mouth, and he saw red.

Peter led the battalion behind Aslan, as he was expected to. His shoulders, legs, and arms were becoming sluggish, and a nugget of dread rested at the back of his head, slowly leeching away at his energy and hope. Noticing this, he silently prayed that Aslan’s presence would lend him strength and would help him ignore all the blows his now cumbersome armor was taking. Every hit he took, whether it be from the pommel or blade of the sword, hurt slightly more than the last. This was no longer just a matter of life and death, this was a desperate fight for the survival of what was good.

_I wonder if I die in Narnia, will I be back in England?_

The very implication of that thought was almost enough to have him surrender right then and there. After all, his mind already accepted early defeat by letting that thought slip in. Why not his body too? No. He shook his head and blocked an oncoming sword aimed to lop off his head. He was Peter, the High King, and kings did not give up on their country, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed.

Even if he were to die and never come back again, Peter could rest in peace knowing that he fought for his country and in the name of Aslan, defended their honor with all his might and then some. He swung his sword, aiming it at a minion’s legs. Thud. Another one down, and one less enemy to worry about. Feeling a shred of pity for the collapsed man, he drove his sword through his heart to end his suffering.

With every thought of what he was fighting for, Peter slowly regained the gusto in which he fought and drove on. He would not and could not stop until this battle was won. The gravity of this would be overwhelming to you or me, but not to him. Aslan’s comforting and strengthening words echoed through his ears, “Remain steady, son of Adam, I will be with you every step of the way.” Having this renewed gusto, he quickened his pace and upped his technique.

Lucy could not believe her eyes. Aslan was felling the Queen’s ranks left and right, but more of them seemed to pop up out of nowhere, much to her dismay. Her blue eyes scanned the battlefield to see Peter in his full armor, fighting like a berserk gone mad. Even from here, she could see his grim expression, the way he clenched his jaw to hide a wince from the pain. She ached to be able to run out there and give everyone a drop of cordial, their suffering and pain soon became hers, and she hated it. (She saw all this because she and Susan were at a high vantage point)

Every arrow she let loose gave her incomparable anxiety that she could’ve missed and hit one of the creatures that were on their side. Of course, she never did, but one could never worry enough. Edmund was also out there, slashing at every enemy that came his way. Lucy couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at seeing her two older brothers fend off the ever-growing army. The ever-growing part gave her a sense of dread. What if they could never be able to defeat them? What if Narnia was lost forever?

Preposterous. With no head, the snake cannot live. The White Witch was dead and that was that. She gave herself an affirmative nod before loosing another arrow, the faraway thunk giving her chills. She shook off the ominous feeling of dread and tried to replace it with hope.

Aslan’s here, she insisted to herself, that means that everything must be okay. It has to be. There’s no way that we can lose, we can’t let that happen, Aslan wouldn’t do that to u-

Lucy heard a scream that wasn’t too far from her. Dropping her bow and arrows, she saw Susan’s eyes wide and mouth agape. Fearing that something went wrong, she sprinted towards the Queen, heart pounding. Once she reached her, Susan was collapsed on the ground, her hands tangled in her hair as if she couldn’t believe what just happened.

“What’s wrong?!” Lucy all but yelled, unable to hide her apparent fear. Her older, usually unflappable sister had her knees curled up to her chest and was staring down at the fighting with a hollow look. Her breath stopping in her throat at the sight of Susan, she followed her gaze. What she saw- it was an awesome sight (using awesome in its old connotation, as in causing terror). There was a red and gold streak below them, and upon closer speculation, it was Aslan still sprinting to and fro, though with an uneven gait, striking the fear in the hearts of the Witch’s accomplices as he defeated each foe.

Lucy felt her heart swell with pride once more, that is, until she saw the wound in Aslan’s side. His tawny coat was cut several times on the side, staining the warm gold with scarlet. There was a lump in her throat preventing her from screaming out when she saw a minotaur lumber behind the great Lion, its wicked weapon poised in its hand. By the time she forced her voice to cooperate, it was too late.

The creature had buried the blade into Aslan’s already-made wound, earning a roar from him that made everyone stop the fighting to look and stare. While the minotaur let out a triumphant bellow, the proud Lion collapsed onto his uninjured side, his breathing already uneven as he panted from the pain.

There were at least five minutes of absolute silence. It was as it the winds were afraid to disturb this moment, as their creator lay dying (the story of the creation of this world is in the book, The Magician’s Nephew). The mournful silence was interrupted by a strangled and pathetic sound wrenched itself from Lucy’s throat as she haphazardly ran down the crags and rocks down to the field to reach him, not caring if any harm came to her. On the way down, she heard the thin and tinny sound of glass breaking.

Stopping to look down, Lucy’s heart sunk even further down her chest. The cordial Father Christmas gave her had fallen down a few feet below her, and the fragile glass broke into a million pieces, the red contents within it spilling out onto the rock. Frustrated tears leaked from her eyes. The one thing that could’ve saved Aslan was broken by her own clumsiness, and to her knowledge, there was no Deep or Deeper magic that was going to revive him this time.

Driven by this, the Narnians attacked Jadis’ (the White Witch) army with a renewed vigor. No one, not even they themselves were prepared for this. Within minutes, the remainder of the enemy were either defeated or retreating. But for all of Narnia’s warriors, it was a pyrrhic victory. In winning against the pristine picture of evil, they lost their leader and creator.

The funeral was held promptly after the battle, which the four Kings and Queens referred dispassionately to as the “Battle of Beruna.” Tired, beaten up and worn, the strongest of them hauled Aslan onto the cart, while some of the horses (Talking Horses of course, for them, it was an insurmountable honor, no matter how grave the circumstances) carried him to the stone table. Upon that, they laid him there as Susan said a few words about him, as she had collected herself enough to do so.

A few moles dug his grave, and then the four Pevensie children lowered him into it. This marked the end of their true leader and protector. The next two months were in mourning, and the four sons and daughters of Adam and Eve spent most of their time in the castle during their reign, silently going about their business and affairs of the kingdom, but not doing much else. A Pyrrhic victory, indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! (I love constructive criticism, it's not expected but it's nice to see an occasional tip here and there)


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